


Coming Home

by Morgan (morgan32)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-20
Updated: 2009-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Released after several years in prison, Jack must find a way to renew his friendship with Daniel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

#### January, 2007

The contents of the bag represented all that was left of his life. A single, battered holdall, no bigger than an average overnight case. It contained a change of clothing and his shaving gear, together with half a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, and a bundle of letters. Almost four years worth of letters. There was only one thing left to pack.

O'Neill ran his fingers over the cover of the bible. The black book was even more battered than his bag: it had been much handled over the past four years. Not that he had ever _read_ it. He had changed a lot, but not that much. Jack O'Neill, formerly a USAF Colonel, had lived too long, seen and lost too much to believe in God. Yet he had carried this book with him, everywhere he went, for four years.

It was all he'd been able to keep of his lover.

Jack's sigh was heavy with the irony of that thought. He placed the bible on top of his other belongings and zipped the bag shut. He hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and turned, taking a last look around the cell. It was time to go home.

If "home" still existed somewhere.

As prisons go, O'Neill reflected, this one could have been worse. It was a hell of a lot better than Iraq. But Iraq had been in the line of duty, and he hadn't been there too long. This place had held him for four years, and he had lost far more than time as a result of his incarceration.

O'Neill moved through that morning with a kind of weary resignation. He barely noticed the petty details of the day. One of the prison guards wished him well. O'Neill couldn't even remember the man's name. They gave him an envelope containing all the official papers; he signed where they told him to and shoved the envelope into his bag without even glancing at the contents. It was only as he was on his way out he began to take notice of anything. Because he had to pass _that_ room.

Perhaps it was only natural that he should be remembering today. Remembering the news he had learned in that room. Remembering the day, almost exactly two years after the court martial that had ended his career and put him in this place, when he had learned of his lover's death.

***

#### Two Years Earlier

O'Neill had learned to ignore the clang of prison doors. He followed the guard in silence. Words weren't called for.

The door was marked "Interview Room". As it swung open, O'Neill saw the man inside look up and his heart leapt. They had told him this was "official business" and that someone from the Cheyenne Mountain facility was here. He had been expecting some stranger. Instead, he saw the last man he had expected to visit him here: Daniel Jackson.

Daniel's hair had gotten long again. And it looked like he'd lost the glasses. Otherwise, Daniel looked no different from the last time they had spoken. O'Neill pushed the memory of that encounter aside. He had to concentrate on the present.

Daniel stood slowly, as if he was stiff or in pain. "Colonel," he said formally, his eyes flickering toward the guard.

O'Neill, never slow, caught the gesture and responded in kind. "Doctor Jackson," he said, keeping his voice distant. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"Business," Daniel said curtly. He turned to the guard. "You can leave now." The words were clipped.

"I can't do that, sir," the guard said.

Daniel's eyes were cold. "I think you can. I know you were told why I'm here. Now, you're welcome to listen in, but unless your authorisation is signed by the President, I really don't recommend it. And, please, don't let my lack of a uniform fool you into thinking I'm joking."

"I have my orders..."

"Which you can obey from outside this room. I _will_ talk to this man alone. I have my orders, too." When the guard still hesitated, Daniel added, "You can watch us from the other side of the door if you must. I assure you, I've brought this man no files or saws."

"A cigarette would be nice, though," O'Neill interjected dryly, as the guard left the room with a stiff salute. As the door closed, giving them privacy, he met Daniel's look with genuine surprise. "Not bad, Danny. Where did you learn to do _that_?"

"P3X797," Daniel told him. "But that's a long story."

Jack recognised the planet designation and frowned. P3X797 was the "Land of Light". It didn't fit. But then, he'd been out of the loop for a long time. His surprise only increased when Daniel took a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and tossed them to O'Neill.

"Since when did you smoke?"

"I don't. But I figured you would. Here." He slid a silver lighter across the table. An old lighter, the casing scratched and worn.

O'Neill recognised it, and picked it up, turning the precious object over in his hands. "Why...?"

"Skaara asked me to give it back to you. He wants you to know you still have friends  and he's one of them."

"Thanks," O'Neill said. Nothing more. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "Filthy habit," he commented, aware of the irony. "So...why are you here, Daniel?" Straight to the point.

Daniel hesitated. He gestured to a chair and O'Neill sat down. Daniel took a deep breath. "General Hammond was going to write to you...I think he probably will. But I thought someone should come. It's...not good news, Jack."

O'Neill nodded. He had worked that much out for himself. There was a tightness in his throat, a lead weight settling in his stomach. His hand made a fist around his old lighter, clenched hard. "I can read a calendar, Daniel. It's Teal'c, right?" The sound of his lover's name was a torment, the more so now. Jack dreaded the inevitable confirmation of his guess.

Daniel nodded reluctantly. "I'm so sorry, Jack. Teal'c is dead."

O'Neill felt nothing, absolutely nothing in that moment. Later that night, Jack would wake in darkness and weep, silent, endless tears for a grief deeper than anything he had ever known. Worse, even, than the death of his son. But in the moment the words were spoken, there was nothing. He simply said calmly, "His Goa'uld?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened."

Daniel was looking down at the scratched tabletop. "We don't know, exactly. Like you said, we can all read a calendar. We knew...Teal'c knew it was close to the time his symbiot would need a host. We thought we had a solution: Sam was working with the Tok'ra and they were sure it was possible. But...I don't think Teal'c was willing to take the risk." A deep breath, and Daniel met O'Neill's eyes. O'Neill could see he was hurting. "Jack, two days ago, Teal'c failed to report for duty. When I went looking for him, I found his quarters on the base locked from the inside. We finally got the door open...but it was too late."

Tensely, O'Neill repeated, "What happened?"

Daniel shook his head. "We will never know for sure. All I can tell you is that he was dead. So was his Goa'uld. Janet believes Teal'c killed the symbiot, but we can only guess. There was no security camera in there. No witnesses. Jack...I'm sorry."

O'Neill said quietly, "Tal Sha'ka Mel." It was the only phrase of Teal'c's language he knew. _I die free_. The credo Teal'c lived by...and had died by. He understood that. Daniel might speculate but Jack...Jack knew.

***

O'Neill thought of the bible he carried as he walked past that room for the last time. Ironic, really, that his remembrance of his lover was the holy book of a religion neither of them had believed in. Teal'c had read it because he believed the book to be a significant part of the world he had joined. He had found it fascinating. Jack had enjoyed teasing him about it, though teasing was generally lost on Teal'c. And he had kept the bible because no one in a prison would be likely to guess its significance to him.

Teal'c was  at least in part  the reason O'Neill had been court martialled. Until the day Daniel brought him the news of his lover's death, O'Neill had genuinely believed that the court martial and subsequent imprisonment had been a small price to pay. It had come about because Teal'c had been taken prisoner by Apophis. Jack, sick with fear, knowing what Apophis would be doing to his former servant, had gone against orders, against all the regulations, to go after them and bring Teal'c home. Every man who had gone with him had volunteered, but the unauthorised mission had gotten two of them killed. O'Neill would regret that for the rest of his life.

And those deaths were the reason General Hammond had refused to support Jack when it came to the investigation. An investigation that had revealed the nature of Jack's relationship with Teal'c  by military laws, a crime all by itself.

By then, O'Neill hadn't cared. He was well aware he had as good as buried himself. But there had been no other choice: he had to let them believe he was the only villain of the piece, or bring the SGC down with him. There were men out there like Kinsey and Maybourne who were just waiting for an opportunity to swoop in and take over the SGC. O'Neill wasn't going to hand them that chance.

It had hurt, though. Hurt like hell, especially when people he had considered friends turned away from him.

Until Teal'c died, it had been worth it.

Well, it was over now even if, as the cliché went, he had lost everything he was fighting for. He had no family left to speak of. His military career was decisively over. His lover was dead. He was leaving the prison, but what was he walking into? What did he have left?

Maybe just one thing.

***

#### Next Day

Daniel waited inside his car. He hated graveyards. He would never have come here alone. But Jack needed this. He hadn't been able to attend Teal'c's funeral. He probably hadn't even been able to properly grieve, locked away in prison.

Jack had been standing there a long time. To Daniel's eyes, the change in Jack was dramatic. He had aged a lot more than four years and his whole demeanour was different. The confident, military bearing was gone. Jack's sarcastic sense of humour had been lost somewhere, too. There was no humour at all in Jack now, not that Daniel had seen. And Daniel had been with him almost constantly since meeting him outside the prison the day before.

A little worried, Daniel got out of the car and walked slowly across the grass to where Jack stood. When Jack failed to acknowledge his presence, he laid a hand gently on Jack's shoulder. Jack turned to face him, then, and Daniel could see his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Softly, Daniel said, "It's not a weakness to grieve, Jack. Let it go."

"I can't."

Still touching Jack, Daniel moved to stand right in front of him, placing his body between his friend and the stark grey stone that marked the grave. "You can," he urged.

Jack pulled away from him abruptly. He snapped, "Cut it out, Daniel!"

Daniel stifled his instinctive defensive reaction. "I'm sorry, Jack," he said, meaning for so many things. Saying nothing more, he headed back to the car. After a few moments, Jack followed him.

***

Jack's house looked almost the same as it had four years earlier. Teal'c had lived here, alone in the home they had shared, until he died. Since then, Daniel had maintained the place, but though Jack had offered to let him move in, the house had stood empty for two years. Even so, Daniel had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep the house as he remembered it, aware that when Jack eventually came home, he would want familiar surroundings.

They had spent the previous night in a roadside motel, and driven past the cemetery before coming here. Not long after they reached the house, Daniel knew he had been right to maintain it the way he had. Seeing how much it helped Jack, he decided the effort had been worth it. He felt more than a little awkward, not sure, especially after the scene at the cemetery, whether Jack would still want him around. But when he offered to leave, Jack asked him to stay.

He stayed, though Jack seemed very distant and Daniel wasn't convinced Jack wanted his company. But it would take more than a cold shoulder from Jack to drive him away. Jack had a right to be cranky...Daniel could only imagine what he must have been through these past years.

It was late in the evening when Jack relaxed enough for them to talk. Over a couple of beers and several large measures of Jack Daniels, Jack had asked, for the first time, about Teal'c,

"What _really_ happened?" he had asked Daniel, right out of the blue.

Daniel answered truthfully that he had already told Jack what happened.

"You told me damned little," Jack pointed out.

"We never knew much. Jack, we did a lot of speculating. But all I or anyone else knows for sure is what I told you at the prison."

There was, in fact, more Daniel could have said. He had never described to Jack the scene when they had found Teal'c; he didn't want Jack haunted by those images the way he was. It was still a vivid picture in his mind now, two years later. However Teal'c had died, it had been bad. Better, surely, that Jack remember his lover the way he had known him, strong and vital.

"You never learned anything more?" Jack asked him.

Daniel shook his head. "We know Teal'c's symbiot was ready for a host. We know Teal'c would have died before allowing that to happen, to himself or anyone else. We know that without a symbiot, Teal'c couldn't live for long. And we know the symbiot died before he did. Everything else is speculation. I'm sorry, Jack. That really is all."

Jack was silent. He lit another cigarette and drained his glass again. "What happened to his belongings?" he asked finally.

"Most of it is still here in the house. I haven't thrown anything out."

"His staff weapon? He would have wanted his son to have it."

"I agree with you. So did General Hammond. The weapon is still at the SGC, but his wife will claim it when the boy is old enough." It sounded important to Jack. Yet this was the first time he'd brought it up. Daniel watched, beginning to worry again, as Jack refilled his glass. It wasn't the amount Jack was drinking that bothered him: it was the speed.

"Why?!" Jack bust out, suddenly. "It's so pointless!"

Daniel stared at him dumbly. He had no idea what to say without making it worse.

"We had a plan, Daniel. If I'd been there..."

Instantly, Daniel was on his knees at his friend's side. "Don't," he said urgently. "Don't let yourself think that way. We did everything possible, Jack. It just wasn't enough."

"_I_ might have made a difference," Jack insisted. "He would have trusted me. Now he's gone and I didn't..." Tears filled Jack's eyes as his throat tightened around the words. "I couldn't even say goodbye." The last word was a choked shout. And as the tears finally overflowed he allowed Daniel to hold him. But he didn't cry for long. Never could.

Finally he pulled away. "I think I'm drunk," he muttered.

Daniel nodded. "If you're not, there's something wrong with that Jack Daniels." Jack had been drinking like he intended to get drunk.

Jack reached for his cigarette, only to find it had burnt out. "Typical. I should probably quit."

"Drinking or smoking?"

"Both." Jack tried to get up and his head started spinning.

Daniel caught Jack as he staggered. "Yeah, I think you've had enough. I'm going to put you to bed, okay?"

"No. Just make coffee. I'll be okay."

So Daniel made coffee, as strong as possible, and carried two steaming mugs back into the living room. Jack accepted a mug from him, but didn't drink.

"You know, I...um...I want to thank you," Jack began.

"For what? Coffee?"

"No, Danny. For sticking by me. I know it was tough for you but I wouldn't have survived without your letters...your help."

"We're friends," Daniel shrugged.

"It's more than that. When...when the investigation started, you weren't exactly on my side."

Daniel gasped, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He stared up at Jack. "Oh, god, Jack that's not true! I was always on your side. I didn't tell them anything."

"But it bothered you."

"That's a lot more charitable than I'd be in your place. I behaved like a spoiled child, Jack, and I know it. But I didn't hate you or betray you. I just...didn't understand."

Jack and Teal'c had gone to a lot of trouble to keep their sexual relationship quiet, even from Daniel and Sam. When it all came out, Daniel had been hurt by what he saw as lack of trust. Even though he had realised quickly that, off duty, neither Jack nor Teal'c had gone to great lengths to hide how things were between them. And he had known they lived together. He had just failed to see what was right in front of him. But for Daniel, alongside the hurt was a certain disbelief. He hadn't seen it, not because he'd been blind, or naive, but because he hadn't _wanted_ to see it.  The idea that two men he was so close to could be lovers... Daniel had considered himself open minded and tolerant, but he couldn't deny that the concept bothered him. A lot. And when Jack tried to explain, his response had been...less than understanding.

"I didn't understand," he said again, looking at Jack. Would he ever be able to make up for kicking the man when he was down? "Not then," he added. "Now I do."

"What changed?" Jack asked.

Daniel looked away. "Long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Daniel met Jack's eyes again and, remarkably, saw no censure there, only interest. Still he hesitated. But he owed Jack an explanation...hell, he owed him a lot more than that. What he'd done to Jack four years before had not been the act of a friend.

"Jack...I'm not even going to pretend there's an excuse for what I said to you. But there is an explanation." He hesitated, draining his bottle of beer as he searched for the right words. "You know my background: I was an orphan, passed from one foster home to another. I had a tough time in school. And one of the first words school bullies reach for is 'queer'. Fairy. Faggot. I always thought I was okay with that sort of thing. But I never had to confront it until I found out about you. What I said to you...it was mostly reflex. Old defences."

"The kids think you're queer, so you pretend to be as homophobic as they are?" Jack guessed.

Daniel nodded. "Something like that. I should have apologised to you. I didn't because...well, it would have sounded like hypocrisy. I did mean what I said. But I was wrong."

"So, what changed?" Jack asked again.

"A couple of months after your court martial, I was badly hurt on a mission. I wrote you about that, remember?"

Jack nodded. 'You said you hurt your back."

'It was worse than that. It was weeks before I could even walk again. There was no way Janet was going to let me off-world for a while, so I got reassigned to research and someone else took my place on SG1. I started working on a project with another man, Adam. He joined the SGC after you left. We were spending a lot of time together; it wasn't unusual for us to work through the night, on the base, or else at his place or mine. One night, right out of the blue Adam asked me if I was gay."

"I'll bet you laid him out," Jack suggested dryly.

"Anyone else, I probably would have. Adam, I just asked why he wanted to know. He told me he'd been hoping I'd say yes." Daniel brushed his hair back out of his eyes. "He couldn't have been more obvious if he'd kissed me or something. And...I heard myself say, 'Actually, no, but I'm willing to learn.' Next thing I knew..."

"I get the picture."

"Do you? It was only after that I realised what I'd said to you. My god, Jack, you should have laid _me_ out!"

"I would have," Jack reminded him, "if there hadn't been bars between us at the time." But Jack's smile took the edge of his comment. "I take it that's when you started writing to me?" Daniel nodded and after a beat Jack asked, "Are you...still together?"

Daniel shook his head. "It didn't work out. Adam and I...we had a really great working relationship, but making sex a part of it was a mistake. We get along better as we are." There was some pain there, still, but Daniel said nothing more.

"Still friends, then?"

"Of course. Adam's head of the research team at the SGC."

"Is there...you know...anyone?"

"No." Daniel smiled wryly. "With my track record, it's probably just as well."

Jack returned the smile, but made no comment. It was true, when it came to the women Daniel had met in the line of work, he had a fairly poor record.

"Jack, were you planning to go to bed tonight? It's nearly 1am."

"I know," Jack confessed, "and I'm exhausted. I'm used to lights out around ten. But I won't be able to sleep." He hesitated, meeting Daniel's eyes. "I'm sorry, Daniel. You don't have to wait up with me."

"Why won't you be able to sleep?"

"I'm just not used to sleeping alone. Last night in that motel, I couldn't sleep a wink. I don't meant there's been someone in my bed, but there's always someone around, you know? You don't get any privacy in prison. The motel was bad enough. This house is way too quiet."

Daniel wanted to understand that, but didn't. "You could try leaving the radio on," he suggested lamely. "Or...if it's company you need, I don't mind staying. Your bed's big enough for two."

Jack's eyes widened. "What...?"

"Should I take that back?" Daniel asked him. Jack's shocked look made it clear what Jack _thought _he meant. "I offered you company., Jack. I didn't ask you for sex." When Jack didn't answer Daniel added uncertainly, "Or is that what you wanted?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Daniel!" Jack was on his feet again, turning away. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Start with the truth."

"Truth? Danny, the truth is that the only thing that's kept me going since Teal'c died is your friendship. The truth is I've had way too much to drink tonight, and I'm having trouble thinking straight. And the truth is, you're not helping with that!" He ran both hands through his hair wearily. "What would you have said if I _did_ ask you for sex?"

Daniel didn't even hesitate. "I would say no. That's not why I'm here, Jack." He could have explained  _should_ have explained  but self-defence kicked in and he said nothing.

Jack held his eyes a moment longer. Finally he said quietly, "Just for the company, then."

"Yeah." Daniel nodded.

"I assume you know where the bedroom is?"

***

In the grey twilight of pre-dawn, Daniel woke. There were gentle fingers brushing his cheek. Was that what had woken him? His first, half-dreaming thought was of Sha're, but his wife was long dead and the scent that surrounded him was not hers. His eyes still closed, he reached up a hand to cover the one touching him, and turned his face to kiss the palm of the other man's hand.

_Jack_, his memory supplied, though the reason he was naked in bed with his best friend eluded him. He heard his name whispered, a moment before soft lips covered his.

In a dream, he felt a warm, mobile tongue probe between his lips, and parted them in invitation. Daniel's hands, now invited and desired, drifted over the hard-muscled body beside him, fingertips seeking sensitive places, touching lightly. He thrilled to feel the response to his caresses, in the kiss they shared and in Jack''s trembling hands.

Hands which now roamed Daniel's body with a purpose. Daniel groaned as a hand brushed his cock, and a fingertip sought his anus. He murmured a "Yes..." and felt that finger enter him. His muscles protested and then relaxed, as his questing hand sought Jack's erection. He found the flesh hard as steel, sheathed in skin smooth as satin.

He didn't know how long they lay there, teasing and kissing each other as the dawn grew lighter. he knew only that when he finally rolled over, the silent gesture begging Jack to take him, it felt more than right that they should do this thing. It felt necessary.

They had no lubricant, and it hurt at first. But before long, there was only the pleasure and the growing need. Jack's lips brushed his neck, his breath harsh and warm against Daniel's skin.

"Danny ...I can't....I need you to come now...Please come."

Somehow, the words alone pushed him over the edge and Daniel cried out softly as he climaxed and Jack thrust hard inside him once more...

...And it was over.

***

#### Twelve Hours Later

O'Neill heard Daniel's knock and almost ran to the door. He hadn't expected him yet; even so, he was impatient. Mostly because he'd been alone in the house all day and the novelty had very quickly given way to boredom. He had stubbornly resisted the lure of the television, and spent the day trying to find other things to do. Eventually, he'd ended up gardening  god, how much further could he fall?!  because the garden held fewest memories.

He didn't want to face the memories alone.

It wasn't Daniel's fault: he had a job to do, and O'Neill knew better than most how important that job was. But Daniel's departure had seemed unnecessarily abrupt after their lovemaking that morning...maybe he was just being paranoid. O'Neill was out of practice with this friendship stuff.

Not to mention...

"Jack, we should talk." They were almost the first words out of Daniel's mouth when he walked in the door.

It was almost a relief. What they had shared that morning had been wonderful, but it had also been impulsive, and something Daniel had specifically said he didn't want the night before. Had Daniel been some stranger, O'Neill could have moved on without much hassle. But not Daniel. Not this man whose friendship he valued above all others.

Then there was that other part of him that was saying aloud, "Talk? Oh, come on, Daniel. You know I hate..."

O'Neill saw Daniel flinch but the younger man recovered quickly. "You are _not_ going to fuck me and never mention it again." Daniel's voice was like steel.

O'Neill nodded. Much as he did hate this sort of conversation, he knew that if he was going to save their friendship, they had to have it. "Okay." He led they way into the living room again. Daniel sounded determined, but not hostile. O'Neill hoped that was a good sign.

Daniel slid his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it over the arm of the couch. But he didn't sit down. He stood there, looking at O'Neill, for a long moment.

"For crying out loud, Daniel, say _something_!"

"I don't know what to say," Daniel confessed helplessly. "I guess what I want to ask is, why?"

Jack had to look away: he couldn't endure that direct gaze any longer. He couldn't tell what Daniel was thinking, or what he wanted to hear.

"'Why' is the one I can't answer," O'Neill said. Painfully honest, and please don't let him take this the wrong way. "It was...impulse, I guess. I figured you wouldn't have stayed the night if you weren't a little interested." He saw uncertainty in his friend's eyes turn to ice and went on quickly. "No, that's not what I meant. Christ, Danny, you know I'm not good at this!"

"I know," Daniel said, his voice carefully controlled. "I'm listening."

"If you want me to apologise, I will. But...there were two of us there, this morning. I don't think I imagined that."

Ice became fire. "Fuck you, Jack! If you can't quit guessing what I want to hear and just tell me the truth, I'm out of here." He reached for his jacket.

O'Neill wasn't aware of having moved. But the next moment he was holding Daniel, gripping his upper arms hard enough to leave bruises. Daniel's face was inches from his own, those lips parted slightly in shock...in invitation. And O'Neill kissed him, taking his mouth thoroughly, almost savagely. He gave Daniel no chance to resist, and his strength, even now, was still the greater of the two. O'Neill's desire rose, hot and demanding, but he went no further than the kiss.

Finally, he released Daniel, afraid of what he might do if he didn't. "Is that honest enough for you?" he asked, his voice heavy with lust. He could taste blood, he realised.

And was met by Daniel's fist in his jaw. It was no slap, either, but a serious punch, the man's whole weight behind it. O'Neill, unprepared for it, staggered, reaching up a hand to his jaw. He looked up at Daniel again. "I guess, that's my answer," he mumbled. Christ, that hurt!

But what hurt more were the tears he saw standing in Daniel's eyes. What was happening here? Too far out of his depth, O'Neill knew he was handling this badly, but he couldn't figure Daniel out. One second he was furious, the next...

O'Neill straightened, long experience enabling him to ignore the pain in his jaw. "Sit down, Daniel. Don't look at me like that  I'm not going to touch you." Daniel sat down slowly. O'Neill took a seat opposite him. "Let me ask you the same question, Daniel. I know I started it, but you did more than just co-operate. Why?"

Daniel swallowed. Now it was his turn to avoid Jack's eyes. Finally, he nodded to himself, obviously coming to some sort of decision. He took a deep breath, meeting Jack's look. "I'm no better at this than you are. Jack, I've been alone nearly all my life. I never truly realised it until I met Sha're...suddenly I wasn't lonely any more and it was the best feeling... But I lost her. I have rotten taste in women, Jack. I mean, Hathor, Shyla...Kira..." He laughed, bitterly. "I couldn't do worse if I tried, could I? Then I...I walked into an affair with a man I still have to work with, and God! what a disaster that was! Sex without love, Jack, is just body parts. Left me feeling worse than before."

Daniel's eyes were bright, his voice hoarse. "But with you... We've been friends a long time, Jack. And I've loved you most of that time. I don't know if I can love you that way. I'm willing to find out, but not if..." Daniel broke off, swallowing again. "Not if you're still... I'm not Teal'c. Jack. I can never be him."

Teal'c.

The name hung between them, a barrier, a ghost.

And O'Neill understood. "I'm a selfish bastard, aren't I? I've been so wrapped up in myself I forgot. He was your friend, too. And you...you found him, didn't you?" He saw Daniel's nod, but he hadn't needed that confirmation. A lot of things were becoming clear. "I know how that can haunt you, and I get the feeling it was a lot worse than you've told me. I'm sorry, Daniel."

"You don't have to be..."

"Yes, I do. I know what lonely feels like, Daniel. I felt it every second of every minute of every day I was in jail. Do you know what got me through it? You." O'Neill was leaning forward in his chair, willing Daniel to hear him. "You have to know what a lifeline your letters were, Danny," he said earnestly. "I mean, you wrote me twice a week, whatever else you were doing, every week. You were always cheerful, never once gave me bad news, never once let me think your life was anything other than same old same old. I would have gone nuts a long time ago if not for you. Not Teal'c, Daniel. You. I don't know how you did it."

Daniel smiled. "I like to write letters."

Jack returned the smile, but there was more to say, and he knew it. "Like you said, we've been friends a long time. Believe me, I wasn't making love to you and thinking about him. It was _you_."

"This morning, maybe. What about just now?"

With an unexpected flash of his old humour, O'Neill grinned. "What, I can't go caveman on you, either? If I'd done that to Teal'c, he'd have laid me out." He reached up to touch his jaw again, gingerly. "Kinda like you nearly did."   Yeah, he was definitely going to have a bruise there.

"So..." Daniel hesitated, clearing his throat. "So, what do we do now?"

He was too serious: this scene needed lightening up, fast. "Well," O'Neill shrugged, "I don't know about you, but I want to eat." He smiled, a last olive branch. "Coming?"

"Sure." Daniel walked toward the kitchen ahead of him.

O'Neill watched the other man's back, wondering what would happen now. There was progress, but they hadn't really resolved anything. He reached into his back pocket for his cigarettes.

Daniel must have heard the click of his lighter flipping open, because it was right at that moment he turned around. "Jack, I'm trying to be tolerant here, but I'm not going to enjoy kissing you if you taste of those things."

Jack closed the lighter with a grin. "I just quit." He threw a friendly arm around Daniel's shoulders, and they headed into the kitchen together.

Everything was going to work out.


End file.
